


You Must Be Psychic

by Leviafan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 04:16:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leviafan/pseuds/Leviafan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pamela and Missouri meet at Bobby's fortieth birthday party, but they're just friends... until it's too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Must Be Psychic

**Author's Note:**

> For spnpairingbingo.

The thing about meeting another psychic was, it was near impossible to keep a secret.

By rights Pamela shouldn't even be here. Sure, she could hold her own even among a bunch of old hunters, and Ellen was already teaching her how to drink them all under the table; but she was still only twenty-five, and this wasn't her world. She knew it was small potatoes, what she did. She liked her small potatoes. It was a lot less dangerous. Usually, the worst thing she came up against was a pissed-off ghost, and if that wasn't exactly nothing, at least she knew how to deal with it. But she'd look into the faces of these men, and they'd seen so much darkness. It stared back at her out of their eyes, seeped from their pores, and it made her nervous. She felt about ten years younger too, and not in a good way.

So she'd spent most of the party by the punch bowl, wishing it was something stronger. She didn't even know why she'd been invited. She and Bobby weren't exactly close; but he must've been impressed with her for some reason. This was a big party, but not that big. She had a feeling Bobby wouldn't have liked that, and Ellen must have realized she was already pushing her luck by throwing any kind of to-do. But as she'd pointed out to Pamela, you only turn forty once, might as well make something of it. At twenty-five she was too young to get it completely, but it did sound like common sense. So here she was, punch in hand, people-watching, doing her best not to eavesdrop on their thoughts. In this crowd, there were some things she really didn't want to know.

So when the voice came at her shoulder, quiet and laced with a charming Southern tinge, it actually came as a surprise.

"Sure is hard to tune 'em out."

Pamela turned her head and saw an older woman— well, old in the same way Ellen was— watching her with steady brown eyes. Pretty eyes in a face that couldn't really be called pretty, but it was nice to look at. As these thoughts (damn, it was like herding cats) flowed through her mind, the woman let out a dry laugh, not unfriendly, maybe a little self-deprecating.

"Glad somebody thinks I look nice," she said, "even if she wasn't gonna say it."

"I— you're psychic too," Pamela said, realization dawning. The woman nodded.

"Bet your buttons I am. Missouri Moseley, and you're... ah. Well, it's very nice to meet you, Miss Pamela Barnes," Missouri said, extending a hand. Pamela shook it and found it to be large for a woman, skin dry and warm. She held on just a little too long; Missouri laughed again, and Pamela still liked how it sounded. This was off the beaten track for the younger psychic, but she wasn't the kind to keep secrets from herself. She knew exactly what was going on here. It was just a little embarrassing that Missouri knew too.

"Now look, I'm not saying you're not easy on the eyes and I'm sure you're a fine young woman, but that ain't really my thing," Missouri said, but Pamela shook her head.

"Mine either..." Then she quit staring across the bar and locked eyes. She didn't lie to herself or anybody else. "And how would you know? Ever tried it?"

That was more serious than funny, so Missouri just smiled and looked over at Bobby. "So, how come he invited you? Me, I'm practically a family friend even if we don't talk much anymore, seeing as I was the one introduced John Winchester to the way things are. But you're too young for that kind of history. What brings you here from... Illinois, you said?"

It was Pamela's turn to smile. "I didn't. But yeah, Illinois." She paused, took a drink. "I don't know. I helped him out with some job a few years ago, hasn't shut up about it since. It was just an average angry spirit, though."

Missouri gave her a sideways glance. "He must've seen something in you. I can see it too. You got power, real power, not like what I got. Mine's enough to get by, but you could go far if you wanted to."

"Who says I want to?" Pamela asked, her head tilted to one side. Her smile started off flirtatious, then it calmed down into something genuine and a little rueful. "I'd rather not get involved with all this. Too rich for my blood. Give me a palm reading over exorcism any day."

"Me too, honey. Me too."

* * *

They kept in touch over the years, just by telephone. They were both busy women. Missouri always looked forward to these calls, though. It was nice to be able to talk with somebody who got it, without long, awkward explanations. She'd tell Pamela about Lawrence's problems, then she'd listen to Illinois'.

Sometimes late at night, when she was having trouble sleeping, she'd think back to that party and she'd wonder if she'd been wrong to turn down the offer. As alien as it seemed— nobody ever talked about it back in her day, you just knew that was the kind of thing that'd earn you a whipping, so to her it might as well be another planet— it'd still be nice to wake up sometimes with a bed that wasn't empty. And her daddy for all his righteous indignation never had to contend with an empty bed.

Even so, Pamela's death hit her harder than she'd expected. Probably something to do with the wasting of youth. Missouri was getting old herself, and she was no stranger to loss, so she carried on; but there was suddenly this hollow feeling she just couldn't shake.

Finally, she decided to try a seance. If anything went wrong, well, Kansas could just about get along without her. She'd never tried one on her own though. She took all the precautions she could think of and a few more besides. At last, she knew she was as ready as she'd ever be. She sat herself at the kitchen table, surrounded by all the things she'd need. Fitting irony, but she'd learned some of this from Pamela.

Missouri spread her hands out on the table, closing her eyes as she began to chant. "I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle." Twice more, with feeling— and before the last word had faded into the ether she heard a familiar voice say, "Why hello there, Miss Missouri Moseley."

She opened her eyes, and though she knew it was an illusion, it was like Pamela was standing right beside her. "Ain't been 'Miss' Moseley in years. But then, you knew that, didn't you, honey?"

"Not married, though."

Missouri's eyebrows jumped up at that. "You still interested after all this time?"

"Damned if I understand it, but I never really stopped being interested."

"Well, well, ain't that the way of the world. Don't know your luck 'til the well goes dry." Missouri shook her head. "I am sorry I turned you down back then. I woulda been proud to make an honest woman out of you... unless you found yourself a man?"

After a moment's hesitation, Pamela replied, "Nah. There was somebody once, but it didn't last."

"Sorry to hear that. What you told me about Jesse, seemed like a nice boy."

The ghost laughed. "He was. But you know how it goes, life gets in the way."

"So does death."

"Don't beat yourself up about it. Don't you dare. That's what this is about, right? Repentance? You got it, sister. Go, live your life. You didn't kill me. That honor goes to Sam and Dean Winchester. Oh, not like that. They didn't stick the knife in either, it was just their crazy scheme that put me in the line of fire."

Missouri bowed her head, then said, "Thank you."

A crooked smile, a warmth in eyes that should be nothing but sad. "For what?" she asked rhetorically, blowing a kiss before her form flickered from view.

Missouri put away the remnants of her spell, then cast one final glance at the space where Pamela's figure had stood before she returned to a world she could predict.


End file.
